Control Pt III
by MissKittyFisher
Summary: Follows on from Santana and Quinn getting what they want from Rachel and issuing a challenge. Will Rachel give in? Slut, kink, F/F sexual nature :)


The evening sun cast long, sultry shadows across the quietening suburban streets. Here and there, laughter and shouts of small children enjoying the last few minutes of freedom before dinner time echoed from back yards and avenue corners. Dogs barked a brief conversation, bread winners pulled their SUVs into driveways, lights flickered on as families settled in to the comfort of their front rooms for the night ahead. Normality. She ran her hand across the back of her neck, absentmindedly wiping the damp sheen away. Her pulse raced, she felt the beat of blood throbbing against the soft skin of her neck, she heard it thunder and crescendo around her head, she felt it pool between her legs. Normality. She reasoned she might never feel normality again.

Ever since her encounter with Quinn and Santana, reason and normality seemed to have flown out the window hand in hand. Her head swam every waking second, her mind raced with images, her body reacted unbidden and when bidden, seemed to explode underneath her with unadulterated lust and desire. School had been a total write-off, concentration fleeing along with the rest of her senses, rendering her into a state of flustered zombie nightmarish proportions. Classes flew by refusing to sink in, conversations seemed to drift off on the wings of sinful daydreams, faces usually so sharp and relevant to her every day life now seemed absolutely meaningless. Finn, Mr Schuester, Kurt, Mercedes, Artie, even the banshee visage and vocal harpoon of Sue Sylvester made no impression on her whatsoever – they just seemed to blur into one incomprehensible set of surroundings that swam in and out of focus as the hours went by. There were only two faces that mattered, only two pairs of eyes, two wicked smiles, two mouths, two tongues, two pairs of hands brushing past almost imperceptibly. Her clit threw itself into spasm at the faintest thought; seeing them in person on the other side of the hall, the classroom, the music room, the car lot, watching her, waiting for her – it had become too much for her to physically handle. They watched her constantly, their darkening eyes raking up and down her body reminding her exactly where they'd been, what they'd done, how they'd made her feel. Part of her was repulsed, nervous, weakened by it, by them, by her self and her reactions; yet a stronger part, a deeper part, something virtually untapped and innate, revelled in it and begged, pleaded for more. There were times over the past few days when it had been all she could do not to rip her clothes from her body, right there and then, and beg on her knees for more of the same. Her body yearned for them, her mind craved them, her pussy capitulated time and again for them. Between her legs became a perpetual hotbed of constant wetness, streaming desire at the thought of becoming their bitch again. While somewhere in the upper moral echelons of her own psyche a faint protest was lodged, she couldn't deny that every fibre of her body begged her to let go and open up once more.

Which was why she was standing here, on the steps to Santana's normal looking suburban house, on a Wednesday evening, shaking hands about to ring the doorbell. As time passed between the melodic chimes and entrance being granted, she felt suspended in a dizzying turmoil. It still wasn't too late to turn around and run, there was still time to change her mind and leave – but her feet remained rooted to the spot, her body refused to listen to the weak pleas of her brain's neurones, her wanton desire took charge and as the door swung open to reveal Quinn, her mouth let out the subtlest of moans.

Rachel felt herself stumble forward rather than move of her own accord. The door shut behind her with a solid thud. Her hands gripped tightly onto the sides of her skirt, her throat ran dry and her eyes glanced nervously around her.

"Dressing the part of a Sunday School teacher?" Quinn intoned with dark sarcasm dripping from every inch of her voice. Rachel looked down as her attire. Sensible shoes, knee length pastel skirt, buttoned shirt and her ever-ready cardigan did nothing to enhance her image as some wanton sex goddess. That fell to Quinn, whose regular cheerleading uniform had been replaced by the most sensual, figure-hugging, cleavage enhancing, leave absolutely nothing to the imagination black latex catsuit that Rachel had ever fantasised about under the covers of her bed. Every curve, every toned muscle, every swell of Quinn's body was visible against the polished material; as if Quinn had poured herself into it like pure sexual liquid. A stinging slap across her face bought her back to reality and her body slammed back against the door behind her, Quinn's hand rushing to her throat, her body pressed up against Rachel's, her eyes flashing with anger. She growled low against Rachel's pulse point. "I said, did you dress the part of a fucking Sunday School teacher?"

"No…" Rachel stammered, the small of her back pressing painfully into the door handle, her body squirming against the unexpected attack, her eyes swimming with confusion. "No, I always dress like this, this is what I wear, these are my… these are my clothes?" Her voice ascended into a barely audible squeak. Quinn pressed her body even closer, the handle behind now forcing her to thrust her hips upwards in an attempt to ease the pain.

The hot breath from Quinn's mouth tickled her ear, her lips grazed across her lobe. "Well they don't do you any fucking justice, Rachel," her name dripping from her lips. "They don't do you any fucking justice at all." Quinn moved her body weight off Rachel almost as quickly as she'd laid it on and stood back as Rachel twisted herself away from the door. "Take them off."

"Here?" Would her fucking voice go back to normal please? "What about her parents?"

"Out. Take them off." Rachel shuffled uncomfortably on the hallway carpet, not for the first time in the past 60 seconds completely unsure of herself. Quinn's eyes narrowed and her voice oozed with menace. "Don't make me ask again."

For a split second she considered backing out, clutching at the door handle as if her life depended on it. She'd already crossed one line just by coming here, just by stepping inside the opened door. But now she was being asked to give her self up, to offer her body, literally, up to the icy blonde in front of her. She wasn't being forced, there was nobody physically manhandling her and ripping the clothes from her skin – this was all coming down to the simple question of whether she really wanted it or not. Whether she wanted to feel their fingers snaking across her racing flesh, to hear their lips whispering filthy sweet commands in her ear, to allow their hands to touch her in hot, wet places that caused erotic eruptions deep inside. Rachel's shaking hands travelled to her shoulders, clumsy fingers pushing the cardigan away from her shoulders. Quinn leaned back against the wall, arms folded across her chest, watching. She flicked her fingers to the crumpled clothing without taking her eyes from Rachel's. "Don't leave a mess." Rachel bent down and folded the cardigan neatly. "Now the skirt. And Rachel?" A twisted smile played on Quinn's lips. "Don't rush it."

Fumbling with the zip at the back of her skirt, Rachel felt undeniably, incredibly, and somehow beautifully exposed under Quinn's eyes. Slowly she removed item after item, feeling like a plaything, an object, and beginning to love every second of it. Her hands pushed her skirt down across her twitching thighs, her fingers popped her shirt buttons one by one, revealing soft pink lacy underwear beneath that clad breasts swelling and heaving under Quinn's gaze, nipples that hardened and stood to attention, lacy panties that flushed dark and wet. She stood out of her damned sensible shoes and awaited further instruction.

"Everything."

Rachel caught her breath and glanced nervously behind her. The front door wasn't solid, panes of glass letting anyone within a reasonable distance see exactly what was going on. Her fingers fluttered to her bra straps, slowly sliding them down her arms. The clasp which would normally open on command now seemed to have a mind of its own and she bit her lips as she struggled to undo it. As her bra finally gave way, her breasts spilled out unhindered and her nipples seemed to grow even bigger without their material constraints.

"Nice tits," murmured Quinn darkly, reaching out a hand to flick a nipple that sent shivers to the very core of Rachel. "Keep going."

Completely aware of the world at large behind her, but even more so of the woman standing in front of her with the penetrating gaze, Rachel slid her hand down the last barrier of protection lying between her and whatever it was that was going to happen to her next. Finally she was naked; naked and compliant. Quinn moved to her, her body rippling underneath the latex. "Tilt your chin," she said quietly. Rachel glanced up towards the ceiling and felt something soft around her neck. Looking down, she saw a chain lead running from Quinn's hand towards her own body, attached to what she could only assume was a collar. Quinn looked her directly in the eye.

"You can still leave now Rachel, if you want to." Rachel swallowed and felt the slight pressure from the collar. "You're here because you wanted to come, you're here because we asked you, you're here because we want to play with you and you want us to play with you. But if this is something that you don't want, you need to leave now. If this is something that you _do_ want, then open your fucking legs and let me feel how wet your fucking pussy is."

Rachel looked at the girl, the woman standing in front of her. Once she handed over her power, once she complied, once she agreed, once she _obeyed_, she would be giving them autonomy over every last inch of her body, every darkened crevice of her mind, every ounce of her craving sexuality. The automatic throb from her own body was the last convincing that she needed. Slowly, shyly, hesitantly, she spread her legs apart. She felt her juices instantly trickle down the inner sides of her thighs. Quinn stepped forward slowly, wrapping the lead around her fist until her knuckles were under Rachel's chin. "You're sure?" Rachel could only elicit a throaty moan and thrust her hips forward towards Quinn's other hand. There was no going back. Quinn chuckled. "You dirty fucking little bitch, you don't even know what you've let yourself in for," and with that, slid a single latex clad finger deep and hard inside Rachel's soaking wet pussy.

Rachel groaned and bucked immediately to take in as much as she could but as she did so, Quinn removed her finger, bringing it up to her lips. Her tongue flicked out and the tip indulged itself quickly in Rachel's heavily scented need. "So. Fucking. Wet." She yanked the chain and Rachel's head snapped forward. "Lick it off my finger you fucking little bitch." Rachel greedily sucked, the cool material of Quinn's catsuit slipping and sliding around on her tongue. "You don't get what you want that easily," Quinn growled. "First of all we get what we want." She titled her head to one side. "You do want to give us what we want, don't you Rachel?"

"Yes!" The second stinging slap of the night.

"Yes Quinn!"

"Yes Quinn!" Rachel felt the heat spread across her cheek. A hand came up to soothe it. She closed her eyes and leant into it.

"Good girl. First rule of the night Rachel, proper manners. You will always say my name, you will always say Santana's name, and you will always be extremely grateful. Do I make myself clear?" The hand slid from Rachel's cheek to the nape of her neck and gripped hard.

"Yes Quinn," she stammered.

"That's better," her mistress purred. Fingers ran through her hair and indescribable waves of faint electric shocks ran the length of Rachel's body. She felt her cunt twitch and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. A jerk on the collar bought her back. "We've left Santana waiting long enough. Do you want to see Santana Rachel?"

Santana. Rachel's clit throbbed just at the mention of her name. She ran her tongue along her lips and heard Quinn laugh. "Yes please Quinn."

"Then get on your fucking hands and knees and follow me." Her body reacted before her brain could even register, dropping to all fours on the soft carpet tendrils. "Such a fucking natural," murmured Quinn, dropping a hand to trace a slender finger through Rachel's dripping slit. "Keep your eyes on the floor until I tell you to look up." Rachel breathed heavily, focusing on the long thin black leather heels in front of her, the firm calve muscles that flexed with every step Quinn took. She longed to reach out her tongue and lick the slick material, to feel Quinn's heat and muscle beneath. She felt so debased yet so good, conflicted between hating it and wanting so fucking desperately that her entire body felt on fire. Want was winning out hands down, hands that were attached to arms that were pushing her body up the stairs, knees joining in abandon. As they reached the top of the stairs, Quinn knelt down and her hand came to Rachel's chin. Tilting her head forward, Quinn's tongue delved into Rachel's mouth, devouring the girl beneath her. Rachel groaned into her mistress's advances, trying to kneel up to take more. Again, a slap. Quinn's eyes blazed. "Remember your fucking place bitch," she hissed, Rachel's pussy tightening underneath her cold stare.

Ahead of Quinn stood a regular, normal bedroom door. What lay behind it, or rather who, made Rachel's stomach twist into a thousand tiny, screaming knots at the thought. As Quinn pushed the door open, she reached down and yanked Rachel up by her hair, forcing her to sit back on her feet. "Keep your eyes to the floor. Don't you dare look up."

Slow footsteps came steadily towards her. She felt the chain around her neck move as one hand passed the leash to another. Impossibly high-heeled black leather dominatrix boots circled her. Fingers trailed loosely through her hair. Hands reached down either side of her shoulders and gently cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples before pinching them in a vice like grip. The unmistakable scent of Santana Lopez filled her senses as long, dark, gleaming hair spilled across her chest and perfectly white teeth gave a sharp nip on the upper shell of her ear. Every single muscle in her body spasmed, every nerve ending stood up to pay attention. The low purr of Santana's voice hummed across her skin sending goose bumps rippling in every direction. "My, my, my." Rachel shivered involuntarily and fought to keep her hands down by her side. "Rachel Berry, naked on a leash on my bedroom floor." One hand traced agonisingly slowly up and down her spine, the other moved to cup her chin, raising her face upwards and backwards. Soft lips descended on her, teeth grazed her lips, a hot, snaking tongue forced its way into her waiting, wanting mouth. Rachel sighed, and allowed Santana to plunder her, revelling in the impending sense of danger cloaked in silky, wanton kisses. Santana pulled away and Rachel whimpered, desperate for more. The Latina moved around from behind her, chain still in hand, and tugged on the collar motioning for Rachel to stand up. "You can look," she drawled, "but you can't touch."

Rachel raised her eyes, and drank the sight in. Santana, bronzed, dark, clad in knee high boots and a short latex catsuit to heart-stopping effect; Quinn behind her, arrogant blue eyes, ice blonde hair, body pushed rhythmically into Santana's hip seeking momentary relief.

Santana's eyes shone. "You seem to have got my girl all worked up." Her hand slid behind her and slipped between Quinn's latex-clad thighs. Keeping her eyes locked on Rachel, she began to work her fingers across the slick material covering Quinn's pussy. The blonde whimpered and her fingers dug into Santana's shoulders. "She won't come until I let her Rachel." Rachel watched, wide-eyed, her pussy becoming unbearably impatient to receive the same treatment. "I can fuck her and fuck her and fuck her Rachel, and she won't come until I give the command." Quinn's head was thrown back, her mouth open, her blonde hair cascading down her back as her body trembled under Santana's administrations. "Shall I make her beg Rachel?" Santana's eyes gleamed. "Shall I make her beg to come? Just say the word Rachel, say the word and I'll make her come right here in front of you." Rachel tried to form words but she was caught, mesmerised. Quinn began to grind against Santana's palm, her entire body tense and shaking. Her moans turned into cries, her fingernails left angry red marks across Santana's skin. Still she held off. "Say the world Rachel."

"Say the fucking word you fucking little bitch!" cried Quinn.

"Make her come!" Rachel was beside herself. Her own pussy needed fucking, her own pussy needed Santana's fingers, her clit begged to be sucked, she needed to touch herself desperately. As Santana turned around and whispered in Quinn's ear telling her exactly what she needed, Rachel thrust two fingers deep inside herself and ground her clit hard on her thumb. Her body jerked violently, she moaned in unison with Quinn, her cunt swelled and throbbed and sucked her fingers deeper inside, her juices gushed out across her hand and onto the floor below. She came hard and fast, her free hand grabbing her breasts and twisting until all she saw were white shooting lights and a monumental sense of relief.

As she felt her body fall to the ground, her eyes opened to the cold, hard stare of Santana. Immediately her body contracted in fear. She shouldn't have touched herself. Fuck! She'd made an error straight away. Santana's eyes told her how much trouble she was in without having to utter a single word. A boot came down hard and swift on her chest, knocking her awkwardly over on her back and winding her. Her head span and panting breaths came from her gaping mouth. Behind Santana, Quinn had managed to pull herself from the floor and was now looking at Rachel with complete contempt. Santana's face drew near.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Rachel opened her mouth to reply but a hard, stinging blow sent her brain racing.

"Who told you that you could come?"

Again she tried to reply and again a blow rained down on her cheek.

"Did I say you could come?"

A third blow, and Rachel's vision was going blurry.

"Quinn, did you hear me say this little cunt could come?"

Quinn shook her head and regarded Rachel with an impassive, haughty stare.

"No Santana, I didn't hear you say she could come at all. In fact, I didn't even hear you say that she could even touch herself."

Santana's heel pressed down sharply against Rachel's strong stomach muscles, causing her to elicit a sharp squeal of pain. "Quinn's right. I didn't even say that you could touch yourself," Santana dragged Rachel up to her knees by her leash, "and yet there you are thinking you have the right to fuck yourself right in front of me!" Another slap, this time backhanded across the other side of her face. Rachel whimpered. "Do you think you have the right to fuck yourself Rachel?"

"No Santana!" Rachel cried, flinching for another strike.

"You're right to fucking flinch," Santana hissed. "Get on your feet!"

Rachel rose unsteadily, her legs feeling like jelly.

"Walk to the wall."

Rachel moved quickly to the wall containing the hoops and metal rings. Santana was behind her before she even knew it, shoving her face hard against the solid surface, causing her to exhale sharply. Her feet kicked Rachel's to either side without warning, her hand holding her head in place with a fierce grip around her neck. Santana's voice dripped into her ear. "Always doing what you want Rachel, always trying to be in charge aren't you. Aren't you?!"

"Yes Santana." Rachel's pussy quickened.

"Miss Prim and Proper, teachers' pet, Miss Goody fucking Two Shoes, aren't you Rachel?"

"Yes Santana, I am."

"I bet you wish they could see you now don't you Rachel?"

Rachel moaned at the thought of her classmates seeing her so humiliated and it sent a jolt through her body. "Yes Santana, I do."

"I bet you wish they could see how wet your pussy is, dripping down your legs, so open for me."

"Yes Santana."

"Would you like them to see you being fucked like this Rachel? Would you like them to watch?"

Rachel shook and stammered. "No… No Santana!"

Santana hissed. "Wrong fucking answer Rachel."

She moved away. "You move one inch and I'll kick you out onto the street butt naked."

Rachel kept her face to the wall and closed her eyes. She could still leave, she could still move her fucking body, open the door, walk out and never look back. She was still in control, she still had power, she could make the decision right now. Then why didn't she? Why didn't she put one foot in front of the other and get the hell away from the pair of them? Because she wanted this. She wanted this situation. She wanted them. She wanted everything that they could, would give to her. She wanted to give herself to them. That was her decision. Since the minute they'd started messing with her head… even before that… she'd wanted this to happen. She could try to deny but she was in far too deep now to even attempt to kid herself. She was here purely by choice and they were giving her exactly what she wanted.

"Pass me the cuffs Quinn." Her hands and feet were shackled in soft leather bonds. Her arms were stretched upwards and outwards and fastened to two small metal hoops above her head. Her legs were kicked out even wider and chained to the base of the wall. One of them pulled her head back and shoved a large ball past her teeth, causing her to gag. Her head was pushed roughly back. "Bring the video recorder."

Rachel's thoughts came back with a start. She looked wildly around her. Santana stood to her side, a large bullwhip in her hand. Quinn moved to the large black leather armchair, and draping herself over it, legs spread and one hand gently stroking the tops of her thighs in anticipation, flicked open the screen of a small, hand-held video camera. Santana yanked Rachel's hair. "Now everybody's going to see what a little slut you are." Rachel shook her head violently. "Everybody is going to know just how hot and horny you are Rachel, everybody is going to see how much you love getting fucked like a little bitch." Rachel tried to get words out but the ball gag made every syllable sound like muffled nonsense. Her body wrestled with the restraints. Santana's hand tightened on her hair. "It you don't want this Rachel, then we can stop, you can pick your clothes up and you can get the hell out of here." Rachel paused. "But we'll never fuck you again. We'll never touch you again. We'll never even look at you again." Santana's voice dropped. "You won't exist to us."

The thought of being nothing to them, the thought of going back to being a person of no interest, the thought of not belonging to them, made Rachel sick to her stomach. What the fuck were they doing to her?

"Do you want this or not Rachel?"

Her head slumped against the wall. Tears threatened to spring up. She nodded her head slowly. Santana let go of her hair, and caressed the cheeks of Rachel's ass almost lovingly.

"Press record."

Santana moved a distance behind her, and instantly Rachel missed the contact. Santana spoke directly into the camera, Quinn flashing a malevolent grin. "For anyone watching this, we're going to give Miss Rachel Berry the time of her life. Aren't we Rachel? Nod your fucking head Rachel if you agree." Rachel nodded feverishly. "See? Rachel Berry wants this, don't you Rachel?" Again she nodded. "Rachel Berry needs this, don't you Rachel?" Again. "Rachel Berry craves this." She did. She craved it all. Her swollen nipples rubbed themselves against the wall, her clit was so big now that is was pushing out between her wet lips for relief. Her pussy pulsed and convulsed in anticipation. Her skin tingled at the slightest touch. Her arse cheeks quivered for attention. She was so ready for this.

Santana turned from the camera to Rachel. "I'm going to make you hurt Rachel. I'm going to make your skin bleed. I'm going to make you wish you'd said no. But when I've finished hurting you Rachel, I'm going to fuck you within an inch of your life." Rachel moaned and nodded and pushed her body from the wall offering it up to Santana. She felt the Latina move behind her. She heard the swish of the whip in the air, warming up. Her body tensed in anticipation. Then a crack in the air and sharp, stinging pain biting into the skin of her back. She jerked instinctively, gasping into the ball gag in her mouth. Before she could collect herself a second crack and a second whipping, biting pain on the other side of her back. Again and again, the crack, the whip, the sting, the pain, the bite as Santana moved with incredible expertise up and down her body. Deliciously she licked the sides of her body with the tip of her leather tool, agonisingly she caressed her thighs with incomprehensible rapidity, again and again and again. The heat began to course across Rachel's skin, spreading like wildfire with each smarting kiss of leather. A myriad of sensations began to pour over her – pain, ecstasy, humiliation, desperation, hot, cold, agony, hurt. She began to scream into the ball gag as the sensations built up until they seemed to tumble over her skin like a waterfall of physical and mental emotion.

Then silence, apart from the sobbing cries of her own voice. Santana came up behind her. "Fucking beautiful," she whispered and Rachel swore she heard a hint of admiration. Her body went limp, the sharp, relentless pain from seconds ago already starting to subside into a low, constant, thudding ache. Santana's hands smoothed over her hair. "Ready for more?" She nodded without thinking. "Good girl." She heard it again. It was almost something like pride. Something inside her clicked and she felt like she was glowing internally. She would do anything to hear that again, to feel the gentle approval in Santana's voice wash over her like a soothing balm. Santana reached up across her aching limbs and undid the cuffs from the wall. Rachel fell backwards and Santana caught her in her arms. The welts on her back stung against the smooth latex of Santana's catsuit. She cried sharply and Santana's grip on her hardened. "On the floor, all fours."

Rachel dropped down, glad of the support of four limbs instead of two. Her head fell against the soft carpet and for a moment she allowed herself to breathe slowly. Santana reached down and pulled on the leash, motioning for Rachel to follow behind her. She lead her over to the large black wardrobe on the other side of the room. Opening the doors, she pulled Rachel up onto her knees. In front of her, hanging on the sides of the two doors, lay an array of assorted whips and paddles. Santana knelt down next to her and pulled her face close. "Because you've been such a good girl, because you've been so well behaved, I'm going to allow you to pick two of these yourself." Rachel eyed the collection in front of her. There were long, thin, wicker canes and wide, flat paddles. She imagined what they would feel like raining down on her skin and shivered. Next to the bullwhip that she'd only just been introduced to, hung a selection of riding crops, cat o'nine tails, floggers, and whips in all shapes and sizes. "Whatever you choose, I'm going to let Quinn use to spank you." Rachel nodded. "Point at the ones that you want." She looked over them, imagining the pain and pleasure from each one. Eventually she pointed to one of the flat paddles, and a small flogger. She heard Quinn take a quick inhale of breath.

"Crawl over to the foot of the bed and stay there until we're ready."

Rachel did as she was told and knelt with her head down and hands by her side. Her body was singing, her cunt was on fire, she desperately wanted to touch herself and give herself a momentary relief. She clenched her fists and shut out all thought of self-serving pleasure.

Quinn sat down on the edge of the double bed. "Get up you fucking slut." Rachel stood, and Santana pressed her forward over Quinn's lap. "Stick your ass in the air for me, I want a good look at you." Rachel did as she was told, thrusting her behind high up. "Spread your legs!" Again she obeyed, moving her legs as wide apart as she could, her glistening lips opening up underneath her. She felt a rush of cold air across her wet inner self, she felt the muscles inside her throbbing, opening and closing of their own accord. Hot, wet liquid rolled down from her pussy across her massive clit and she tensed the tops of her thighs, pushing it out even further, driving herself insane. She felt like she could fuck right now with just her clit, fuck one of these two bitches deep inside their wet cunts just with the size of her fucking clit. The thought of one of them coming hard around her, pulling her inside and getting her off sent her head spinning and her muscles began to shake. Quinn placed her hand and Rachel's backside and began to stroke in gentle, circular motions, before giving a few soft slaps. Stroking again, soft slaps. Her cheeks began to buzz and warm up. Fingers began to slide up and down between her legs, dipping into her juices and flickering across her lips. She jerked again and again, the sensitivity reaching boiling point. Quinn's hand came down firmly on the back of her head. "Keep still Rachel, and take it like a bitch for me." The fingers stopped, there was a quiet in the room. The only thing she could feel was the pressure from Quinn's hand on her head but the anticipation on what would land on her behind felt even heavier.

She heard it before she felt it. A quick rush of air and then a solid crack against her cheeks. The stinging sensation rushed across her skin, her body jolted forward against Quinn's thighs. Silence, and then Quinn's arm came down again, and again, raining blows across the length and breadth of her ass. A fire spread over her skin and began to assault her between the legs. With every stroke of pain came a wave of pleasure as the pressure began to build up inside her. The paddle changed for the flogger and swift, soft, cutting kisses fluttered over her, quickening into an angry storm that inflamed her flesh inside and out. Circular hand motions, soft caresses, the paddle, the flogger, she became lost in a mind-blowing raid on her senses. She moaned, she cried out, she tried to get away from Quinn's lap, she drove herself down against it, she tried to fuck herself, she begged for them to fuck her, she bit down hard against the gag and drove her fingers into the floor beneath her. Her thoughts shattered, her vision gave up, her breathes came in excruciatingly short pants as Quinn's grip on her neck became tighter and tighter. Just as she thought she was about to pass out, everything stopped and stilled. She became completely aware of her heartbeat and the thundering rush of blood against her ears. Her entire behind throbbed with abandon, heat rising, hot liquid running down her legs. She became a thousand million bodily reactions and one immense, crashing need that ran straight through the very core of her. Her thoughts stopped, her mind stilled, she let herself drown completely in the physical.

Quinn's hand ran softly up the length of her tender back. The clasp on the ball gag came undone and it fell to the floor beneath her. She sucked in the air, breathing gallons of it deep into her lungs, filling her chest as the light seemed to rush back inside her brain. Her mouth worked itself, easing the aching muscles of her cheek. Quinn gently eased the pressure against her head but Rachel remained bent over her lap. Santana knelt in front of her, hands caressing her face, Quinn's fingers working softly over her body. She lost herself in Santana's deep brown pools, unquestioningly allowing her access to her innermost sanctum. She had nothing left to hide, nothing left to ask, nothing left to say. Just need. All she had was aching, throbbing, scorching need. Santana pulled her into a heart-stopping kiss, her lips crashing down on Rachel's, her tongue dancing and duelling and conquering, taking everything that she had, possessing her all. Rachel felt like she died on the inside and came back to life a different creature in that kiss. She belonged, she was owned, she was needed and she was wanted. There was no power, there was only giving and she gave it all, willingly. She whimpered utter acquiescence softly into Santana's mouth and her dark haired mistress took it completely.

She felt her lips part from Santana's. The loss felt like her heart had been ripped out. She felt hands underneath her, pulling her up to a standing position. She wobbled, and Santana and Quinn both put their arms around her protectively. Together they helped her onto the bed, allowing her body to sink into the soft, silky material below. She lay back, her head spinning, her mind an empty, vacant swirl. Soft caresses ran up and down her body teasing her skin, quick kisses planted themselves on her soft flesh. She moaned, sighed, allowed them to traverse across her, twisting her head into the bed sheets below. Hands moved across limbs, cuffs were replaced, arms and legs stretched out to four corners, restraining her once again. She had no resistance left, no cries of protest, no fear. Quinn moved to kneel with legs either side of her head, Santana bent between her outspread legs. She managed to steady her gaze as Santana swung something in front of her. Was she to be punished more? She didn't care. She would take it all. Her eyes focused and she saw Santana was dangling a large, black, smooth, cock-shaped dildo. She closed her eyes and nodded. She felt rather than heard the low, soft growl from both girls.

Santana quickly fastened the strap-on harness around her hips, the black dildo protruding heavily. Rachel wondered for a split second whether she could take it all, but the responding thrust from her hips and the aching desire to open her pussy and fill it up answered for her. Santana lowered herself on top of Rachel, her fingers slowly pushing inside her sopping wet lips. Rachel gasped, begged, pleaded but Santana kept her movement light and teasing. Quinn's hands came down to cup her breasts, twisting and kneading, sending bolts of electricity to Rachel's clit.

"Tell us what you want Rachel," Santana said, "tell us what you want so we can give it to you."

"I want it all," she moaned, "please, give it to me."

"You want my cock inside you?"

She gasped as the tip of Santana's strap-on nudged the entrance to her pussy. "Please Santana! Please! Quinn! Make her fuck me!" She was desperate now, trying to push herself down on the thick dildo between her legs, completely hampered by the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She moaned and writhed underneath them. "I want your cock inside me Santana! I want you to fuck me!" She begged, pleaded, filthy words pouring out of her goody two shoes mouth in a breathless torrent. "Fuck my pussy Santana, I need you to fuck me!"

"I think you need to shut our little hussy up," said Santana, and Quinn rose slightly, her latex-covered pussy directly over Rachel's flushed face. Reaching up, she pulled down the zipper at the neck of her catsuit and Rachel watched, enraptured, as her body spilled from the material. Firm, milky white breasts, taut stomach muscles and finally, inches from her waiting mouth, Quinn's slick, wet pussy. Rachel strained to reach, her tongue flickering out for a taste. Quinn sighed deeply as she sank her down, her slick folds enveloping Rachel's mouth, juices sliding across her face. Rachel thrust her tongue hard up inside Quinn, the blonde girl jerking quickly against her. As she drowned herself in Quinn's juices, Santana slid the entire shaft of the strap-on deep inside her. Her body bucked, her pussy swallowing the length and girth in one quick, sensual motion. Santana pulled out and then slammed back in again, Rachel's pussy rocked to the core, the muscles of her walls clamping down and greedily holding it in. Quinn moved rhythmically up and down on her tongue, Santana rolled her hips and thrust into Rachel faster and faster, deeper and deeper. Quinn allowed Rachel to come up for air momentarily and she saw the pair of them, lips locked, fucking themselves on her body below. The sight undid her. She rode the cock inside her, circling her hips, thrusting them up and down until she began to feel it hit that sweet spot inside her. She cried out into Quinn's mound, her tongue trashing against the thick, convulsing walls of the blonde girl's desire. She pulled her mouth forward to Quinn's soaking, swollen clit and swirled her tongue around it, sucking it deep into her mouth and pulling on it using the same rhythm Santana used on her. The three became one movement, one writhing crescendo, a sensual symphony of moans, gasps and groans. She felt Santana's hands grab her hips; she ground her pussy into her as far as she could go, Quinn's juices now flowing freely as she came violently on top of her. Santana dug her nails in and raked them down the length of Rachel's thighs and she screamed out in agony, forcing her hips up and crying out for Santana to finish her off. She came in a whirlwind of pain and pleasure, her body scorched, her skin vibrating, her pussy clenching and clamping down on the thick body inside her with mind-blowing speed. Orgasm washed over her, taking her sensibilities and inhibitions with it. Her body leapt from the sheets, her legs twisted, her toes curled and she screamed their names. Bright white exploded in front of her eyes and she felt suspended in space, as if a thousand razor-blade butterflies had torn through from deep within her pussy and fluttered gently away.

She sank down on to the bed, Santana still inside her. The Latina slumped across her body, a sheen of sweat dripping over her. Quinn sat back against the metal bed frame, a grin spreading from ear to ear, panting breathlessly. Rachel's world spun in a million different colours, sounds ringing in her ears, tremors running through her body like monumental aftershocks. She moaned deeply as Santana withdrew from her, the bronzed goddess flopping down on the bed beside her flat on her back. After a few moments catching her breath, Santana propped herself up on one elbow and stared easily down at Rachel. Tracing the shape of Rachel's face lazily with one finger, she suddenly laughed, her white teeth dazzling.

"Not such a goody two shoes after all!"

Rachel smiled shyly, then grinned broadly. "I guess not."

Santana rolled off the bed and eased out of the strap-on harness, shaking it loose and onto the floor. Quinn removed the cuffs from Rachel's wrists and Santana untied her feet. Rachel curled up on the bed, small jolts still rushing through her whenever she moved. Quinn pulled her up to rest her head on her chest, wrapping her arms and legs around her territorially. Santana moved across the room towards the armchair, where Rachel's eyes suddenly fell to rest on a video camera mounted on a tripod. Santana's eyes gleamed mischievously.

"Want to watch a bedtime movie?"

Rachel gulped. That fucking video tape.


End file.
